Insomnia
by sekdaniels
Summary: Minerva doesn't sleep well these days. She isn't the only one. AU. A drabble inspired by the Writing School challenge for the International Wizarding School Competition.


**AN:** **AU** I guess I see this as happening somewhere in Year 6 with no particular spot in the canon in mind. The interactions between these two characters may be a bit out of canon for this time period, so it is most definitely AU.

I've always loved Minerva's animagus form and thought it didn't really get enough attention for being so clever. Playing with that a bit here.

**Insomnia**

It wasn't so much that mastering an Animagus form was advantageous — although, certainly, it _was_. No, it was _which_ form you chose that mattered; at least that's what Minerva McGonegall thought.

And it was hard to call her wrong in that thought as she swished and crept her way through the darkened hallways of the castle at night almost completely ignored by those she encountered. ' _A cat is a perfect cover, if one is honest.'_

Surely the children looked out for Mrs. Norris. Her ability to create mischief, even where there wasn't any, was legendary. But a regular cat? And every day mouser; of which the castle was filled in its futile attempt at controlling the mice? A shabby, rough-looking cat like that could go about almost anywhere as if invisible, and would not be given a second glance. Even by those _up to something_.

And, of a certainty, Minerva did.

She had to respect James and Sirius; their efforts to support their friend left them with Animagi that would do nothing to assist in their efforts to creep about.

'_Perhaps, _that _happy accident was all to the good. Those boys got up to plenty of mischief _without _it.'_

Still, it was hard to forget the absurdly out-of-place form of Peter's; and how that became all too clear in its true meaning later. It made her heart heavy.

Her nighttime walks, more than not, resulted in the sorts of encounters that lifted her spirits; and Minerva relished them. The quiet conversations of budding romance; or the full-on snogging in a dark alcove. Despite her prim and proper demeanor, Minerva was something of a romantic at heart. She reveled in the rush of love and curiosity; it reminded her of her own youth, and she could not help but be gladdened by those warm feelings. Far from chastising any transgressors she might've found, Minerva was more apt to leave them be—trusting her students, by and large, to make their own choices. And mistakes. Frequently it was just the salve she needed to beat her restlessness, and she would return to her bed with joy in her heart. It was a soothing feeling.

She was in search of that feeling when she found herself, again, in the darkened corridor of the third floor near an area that Flich had deemed 'forbidden'. Minerva snorted with derision.

'_How best to get a curious student to come here but to label it 'forbidden'?' _Hadn't that already proven to be true? Isn't that how Harry had ended up here?

But it wasn't Harry here now. Minerva approached on silent paws with trepidation. As the inevitability of war tightened its grip, she found that she was not alone in her insomnia. His long, pale fingers glided along the stone work of the wall over and over, as if he were wishing something to be there that wasn't. Foolishly, he'd done nothing to cover his silver-blond hair, and in the moonlight, he could easily be identified even without the benefit of a cat's sharp eyes.

"Draco?" The voice, deep, yet surprisingly soft, made her flinch. She hadn't been alone; and yet, she hadn't sensed the other presence.

"You can't be out here now. You know that."

"And you know I have no _choice_."

"I know that you also have _help_, young man." Snape sidled up to the younger Malfoy, grabbing at him by his arm, breaking the spell that all but entranced him. "Go. Now!" Snape charged, practically pushing Draco down the hall and back towards his dorms. The young man fled, still more afraid of his Head of House than the Dark Lord.

'_At least, for now.'_

"You can come out, Minerva," Snape spoke into the darkness. She prowled out of the shadows, choosing to remain in her Animagus form, and curled herself around Snape's legs. She pressed into him with extra vigour and purred. She knew full well how much he hated to clean cat hair from his trousers.

"Been here long?" he purred in return, and picked her up to cradle in his arms. It was a pure violation of all that was sacred between magical beings. Then again, now that she thought about it, so was spying on your colleague.

He brought her up close enough to his own face to look into her amber eyes. "Now make sure you go back and report on me," he hissed. "Run away to Dumbledore right now," he smirked. "I can tell you for a certainty, he's up."

He dropped her unceremoniously onto the floor and stalked off. Minerva shook her head and sat to clean her paws while she gathered her wits. _What did he mean? What did any of that mean?_

Minerva had the sinking feeling that her future held many long, sleepless nights to come.


End file.
